


Mixed Results

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Prompt Fills 2018 [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 14:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13320510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Written for the resolutions comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard, he resolves to be a bit more forthcoming with his feelings, with mixed results."





	Mixed Results

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brumeier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/gifts).



“Good morning, sir,” Crown said. “How are you this morning?”

John smiled at him weakly, remembered the stupid New Year’s Resolution Teyla had badgered him into making while he was trying to teach her some more Earth culture. “Good morning, sergeant. I’m pretty content this morning. And yourself?”

Crown looked startled for a moment, but then he said, “I’m well, sir,” and continued on his way.

First stop was the senior command meeting with Weir, Teyla, Ronon, Heightmeyer, Rodney, Zelenka, Lorne, Bates as head of security, Negley as the ranking NCO, Nurse Marie, and Beckett. No time for breakfast, not even coffee.

Because of course by the time he John got to the conference room, the Marines and the scientists had consumed all of the coffee. Zelenka, Lorne, Bates, Negley, and Nurse Marie all made their reports, then were excused. Decisions were made - personnel to promote, commend, or reassign, disciplinary issues among various departments, supply issues, and how each department was contributing toward Atlantis’s primary goal of exploration and its actual goal of putting paid to the Wraith. Beckett never had enough medical supplies, and certain people who would remain nameless but being hypochondriacs were setting a bad example among the more delicate contingent of the expedition’s personnel. Another round of gate training for civilian personnel interested in promotion to a gate team would be starting on the Alpha Site soon. The military trainers would be a combination of Marines and Airmen looking to select civilians for their teams and those military personnel who needed reminders about playing nice with the civilians. John listened, already building a list of who’d need to handle that training, based on Negley and Lorne’s reports. No doubt Lorne had a list of his own. They’d compare, and the final decision would be John’s.

Rodney could use some additional firearm training.

“ - And once again Lieutenant Colonel Hedgehog isn’t listening to an important perspective on this vital command decision!”

John snapped back into focus. 

Rodney was drumming his fingertips on the cover of his datapad, looking irritated.

“Sorry,” John said. “I underestimated how difficult it is to maintain concentration without either food or caffeine.”

Rodney blinked. “Oh. You haven’t had coffee? But there’s always two carafes in here.”

“I am still slightly irritated that the coffee was gone before I got here,” John said.

Teyla nodded, approving of his honesty.

Rodney cleared his throat. “So, John, on the issue of celebrating Valentine’s Day in Atlantis. Lorne apparently has hordes of Marines ready and willing to bake heart-shaped cookies, deliver singing telegrams, and otherwise encourage totally unprofessional behavior in the workplace. I think cupids and everything associated with them should be strictly banned from Atlantis, but Heightmeyer and the soft sciences have a different opinion.”

Heightmeyer said, “Atlantis isn’t just our workplace, it’s our home, and maintaining familiar routines, including holidays, is comforting and morale-boosting for the personnel.”

“No cupids,” Rodney said flatly.

“I would like to learn more about Earth culture,” Teyla said.

Beckett said, “I can put in an extra order for prophylactics and, er, other necessities.” He blushed faintly.

“The chemists can brew better lube than anything the SGC sends,” Rodney said.

John raised his eyebrows. How did Rodney know that? Was he already with someone? Surely Rodney would have told him. No way Rodney wouldn’t be bragging about who he was sleeping with.

Ronon said, “Why does the baby have a bow and arrow?”

“Elizabeth?” John asked, stalling.

“I think participation in Valentine’s festivities should be optional,” she said.

John thought quickly. Lorne had been on Atlantis only six months and already everyone knew that he could do miracles with seemingly no supplies. “Before I commit a lot of military effort and resources to cookies and singing telegrams, how about we take some kind of anonymous poll and assess interest? Heightmeyer, your sociologists could do that, right? And if enough people want the whole shebang, we can put up hearts and -”

Rodney glared at him.

“Hearts and pink and white streamers but no cupids.”

Weir smiled at him, pleased. “That’s a wonderful compromise. Well-thought out, John. Good thing we have about a month to prepare.”

The meeting finished quickly after that. John wanted to get to the mess hall to get something in him before he started gnawing on the walls, but naturally Elizabeth cornered him.

“How are you doing, John? Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m probably more irritable than I should be, given the relative low stress of the situation, but I realize that my being hungry is exacerbating my mood,” John said, after some careful self-assessment.

Elizabeth blinked. “That was - honest. Go. Get some food. I’ll talk to you later.”

John nodded and headed for the mess hall.

As soon as he was fed, he fled for the command office where he generally hated to be but that was secluded from the rest of the world. Constantly stopping and assessing how he was feeling was exhausting.

Lorne was already in there. He had his radio set into the little stand on his desk and had tuned to the Radio Atlantis alternative station, was typing away at his laptop like a dutiful paper-pushing minion. As soon as he noticed John, he shut the music off, which was a shame, because the Johnny Cash cover of Hurt had just come on.

“Good morning, sir,” Lorne said. “How are you?”

John had never noticed how many times a day people asked him that. There was a reason he always went with “good” or “fine”. He took a deep breath, checked in with himself. “I’m better now that I’ve had breakfast.”

Lorne looked startled. “Glad to hear that, sir.”

John sat down at his desk and stared in dismay at the papers that were scattered across it. He had no idea where they were from. Well, there was no helping it. He would have to read through them one by one, sort them out.

John was halfway through the fourth paper when Lorne ducked out of the office in a hurry.

John watched him go and wondered if he should be alarmed, but chances were some baby Marine was homesick and needed someone to cry on before going to see Heightmeyer. John wouldn’t have cried on any of his COs, but were he a baby Marine, fresh out of high school, Lorne seemed like a nice enough guy, understanding without being embarrassingly touchy-feely. 

Teyla managed to be all mindful and centered without being touchy-feely.

John hated paying attention to himself and his feelings. His body always hurt somewhere, and his feelings were a mess.

His radio crackled to life.

“Colonel Sheppard, please report to the infirmary,” Nurse Marie said.

“Why?” John asked, but he was already halfway to the transporter.

Had Lorne gone to answer some kind of disciplinary issue that resulted in an injury?

John saw Lorne as soon as he entered the infirmary, standing with Elizabeth, Crown, and Beckett.

“Colonel,” Beckett said, “are you feeling all right?”

“Apart from a little puzzled about why I was summoned here, I’m - fair to middling,” John said, because ‘fine’ wasn’t quite accurate.

Crown and Lorne cast Beckett knowing looks.

Beckett frowned. He patted one of the exam tables. “Sit up here. Let me check you over.”

“Check me over?” John echoed.

Beckett nodded.

John glanced at Elizabeth, but she, too, looked concerned, so John hopped up on the exam table. Beckett shooed everyone away, drew the privacy curtain around them, and started shining a penlight in John’s eyes.

“How long have you been feeling like this, Colonel?”

“Feeling like what?”

“Feeling - fair to middling.”

“Um. Since breakfast, I guess?”

“What did you eat?”

“Scrambled eggs, bacon, sourdough toast.”

Beckett switched off the penlight and started palpating under John’s jaw, checking his lymph nodes. He made those irritating doctor humming noises that meant nothing at all.

“Look, from a health perspective, I’m fine,” John said. “Apart from the usual twinge in my ankle and shoulder -”

Beckett narrowed his eyes. “What twinges in your ankle and shoulder?”

Before John could answer, Rodney burst past the privacy curtain. “John! What’s this about you catching some kind of alien disease? I told you not to drink out of that stream on MX7-539.”

John frowned. “I don’t have any alien disease.” Then he looked at Beckett. “Do I?”

Beckett looked aggrieved. “Have you not heard of doctor-patient privilege?”

“Oh please, John would tell me anything anyway.” Rodney slapped a hand on John’s forehead. “What are the symptoms, besides having been hit with some kind of emotional disinhibitor or truth serum?”

“Wait, what?” John batted Rodney’s hand away. He looked at Beckett. “You think I’m sick because I’m being honest about my feelings?”

“More than one person has reported aberrant behavior, and their concern was genuine,” Beckett said. “I wanted to be sure, given how this galaxy throws surprises our way.”

John threw his hands up. “I’m fine. I’m not sick, I promise.”

Rodney frowned. “But -”

“It was a stupid New Year’s resolution, okay? Teyla made me promise to be more honest about my feelings. So I’m trying,” John said.

“Oh,” Beckett said in a small voice. “About the twinges in your ankle and shoulder -”

Rodney scoffed. “Why would you want to be honest about your feelings?”

“I’m trying to be - healthier,” John said. “Teyla said it would be a good idea, all right? She wanted to try an Earth tradition, and I told her about New Year’s Resolutions, and she wanted both of us to make them and be accountable to each other and - I get it, it was stupid, all right? No one cares about my feelings. I’ll stop it.”

“You should care about your own feelings,” Beckett said. “Teyla’s right. Some more emotional self-awareness would help your stress levels.”

“Well apparently my emotional honesty is making everyone think I’m sick.” John hopped off the exam table. “I’m fine. I’ll be going.” He pushed the curtain aside and started for the door.

“But your ankle and shoulder,” Beckett called after him.

“I twisted my ankle when I was twenty-three and wrenched my shoulder when I was twenty-five and sometimes they twinge when the weather changes,” John called over his shoulder and made a beeline for the transporter, carefully not looking at Crown, Lorne, or Elizabeth.

He hid from everyone for the rest of the day.

It only worked for so long. Rodney tracked him down on one of the balconies on the farthest edge of habitable territory. He had a plate of food.

“Lorne said I should bring this to you.” He held it out, looking sulky.

Of course Lorne had found him. Probably knew where he was all day. Probably kept everyone off his back in apology, too. 

“Teyla said I should apologize for making fun of your honesty about your feelings,” Rodney continued.

John shrugged. “Whatever. I tried it. It didn’t work. Obviously it’s not for me. I’ll just go back to being - me.” He accepted the plate, unwrapped it. Salisbury steak, mashed Pegasus potatoes, caramelized Pegasus green beans with almonds. His favorites.

Rodney said, “Teyla said I should be more honest about my feelings too.”

“Oh?” John arched an eyebrow, found the silverware taped to the underside of the plate.

Rodney cleared his throat. “Ask me how I’m doing, John.”

“How are you doing, Rodney?”

“I’m upset because someone I care about very deeply is upset, and I won’t be happy till he’s feeling better.” Rodney looked deeply uncomfortable, avoided John’s gaze.

“You care about me very deeply,” John echoed. He searched Rodney’s expression. “How deeply?”

Rodney continued to avoid his gaze.

John set the plate aside and turned to face him fully. “Rodney,  _ how _ deeply?”

Rodney grabbed his collar, yanked him in, and kissed him. Deeply.

Hours later, when they stumbled out of Rodney’s quarters (his prescription mattress was fantastic) in search of food, they encountered Teyla, who took in their mussed hair and sweat-sheened skin and sated smiles.

“John, how goes your New Year’s Resolution?”

“It goes awesome,” he said, and dragged Rodney into the transporter.


End file.
